


They've Known Bitter

by AshenStardust



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Abandonment Issues, Angst, F/M, Female!Reader - Freeform, Feral!Reader - Freeform, Implied Past Abuse, POV Second Person, Post Fury Road, Sex, Smut, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:27:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27648865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AshenStardust/pseuds/AshenStardust
Summary: The Reader is captured by Max when he does a job for Furiosa. A bond forms between them during the time they spend together, but trauma from the past continues to intervene.
Relationships: Max Rockatansky/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 26





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! you guys voted, and this is the next fic to go up from the backlog. I guess from here on I'll go back to a randomizer. Anyway, enjoy!

You knew he heard the hitch in your breath by the way he turned his glare to you. Your tongue ran along your bottom lip and you had to look away from him. Your arms crossed over your chest and your shoulders raised slightly as you felt vulnerable. 

The hum he gave came out more as a growl. That combined with the way he twisted the heavy black metal in his hands… You knew he was disgusted. Him handling a weapon as he had. You both knew it shouldn’t turn you on so much. Or at all.

He put the gun away and his fingers laced through the muzzle they’d fitted you with. You inhaled the scent of gunpowder and felt your knees weaken. You opened your mouth a little, slowly, and he narrowed his eyes at you. You stretched your tongue out and licked and he let you. You flattened your tongue over his fingers then.

There was the thick taste of blood, almost overwhelming. Then dirt and grime and the uncleanliness that permeated a waterless world. Underneath it all was the subtle sharpness of gunpowder. Not so subtle once you took your tongue away and all that lingered was its bitter. You had been staring where your tongue met his fingers, but when you finished you glanced up and made eye contact with him for the first time in two days.

You couldn’t deny that what you saw in his eyes wasn’t disgust. It was something else – everything else – and all too soon it was nothing. He removed his fingers from your metal face-cage and turned away. You were left with the two overly pale men he’d brought along with him for the raid. They grabbed your arms and forced you towards the patchwork vehicle.

They dragged you along and you stared after the Mad Man. Supposed mad man. They shoved you in and sat you upright. Your arms were bound behind you and for a heartbeat you thought they’d keep your legs mobile. You were wrong. Shackles snapped around your ankles and you thrashed against your bonds. Without a body in your eyeline you screamed and thrashed. The shackles on your legs kept you close to the seat but the chains on your arms had give.

You twisted so your back was to the car door. It didn’t look flimsy, but you barely had to scratch at the handle for it to swing open. You twisted back around and took a nosedive out the opening. You weren’t able to touch the ground like that. Your hip wretched and your legs tangled painfully. You’d stopped screaming to concentrate on the door and a pained groan escaped you now that you were careened out of the vehicle.

Large hands connected to tanned arms gripped your shoulders and lifted you back into the seat. He pressed his hands to your shoulders to hold you against the seat. He forced your eye contact and he was trying to tell you something. Probably to behave. You didn’t much care. Even if he had decided to tell you to behave instead of stare it into your soul you doubted you would have listened. “I could kill you too,” he threatened. His voice carried low in his throat and you believed in his follow-through. 

You gulped and nodded, and he let you go. You sat back in the seat, trying to get comfortable, and one of the war boys slipped into the diver’s side. They had taken long enough to ransack the campout and soon you were flying over sand to some new unknown place.

It was a dark day when some half-life took pity on you. “Going to the Citadel.” The War Boy enunciated strangely. You knew what he was by reputation alone. Never before had you had the displeasure of meeting one. The name of his home brought forth vague memories of stories. You shook away the migraine you were going to give yourself and stared out the window. 

You make a noise when the sun had fallen over the horizon. Displeasure. The War Boy looked at you, startled, and turned back to the road. He didn’t say anything and after what had to be hours of driving the car, the car behind flashed its lights. Your metal prison slowed to a stop and the War Boy left you alone.

You grunted angrily and a low wail began to grow in your throat. The sound wasn’t able to fully develop as the Mad Man came into view. You stared at him, wide eyed, and struggled to catch your breath. He regarded you. His gaze was a critical as yours, but he wasn’t frantic. The vehicles revved up again and you were driving down the road faster than before.

A strange silence settled over the two of you. It was almost companionable. Almost. You were frowning deeply and refused to look at him. Stealing glances only when he did something you didn’t like while driving. Eventually you were met by more makeshift vehicles and a trucker of some kind. It was huge and rigged for violence. Protection, perhaps.

The convoy you were now a part of slowed to a stop. You wondered where they had come from. All around you were low rolling hills of sand. You should have been able to see them. Yet it seemed the newcomers had appeared out of nowhere. The Mad Man was the last to roll to a stop. You were at least twenty feet away from any of the convoy but still within their protection.

You shifted uncomfortably as a woman approached with the two War Boys that had been tailing you. She leaned in through the window on the Mad Man’s side and looked at you. “Why’s she bound?”

“Found her that way, Boss,” One of the war boys answered excitedly.

She shot him a short glare before returning her attention to you. “Why’s she still bound?”

“Dangerous.” The Mad Man spoke, and you snarled. You struggled in your bonds, going to headbutt him, but he pressed his hands to your forehead, and you lost traction. You huffed and stared at where his hand connected to your skin. You licked your lips and flicked your gaze from his eyes to his arm.

The woman laughed. “Can’t tell if she wants to eat you or fuck you.” The Mad Man grumbled something, but the War Boys joined her in laughter. “What’s your name sweetheart?”

You stared at her. Your lip curled back, and violence danced in your eyes. When you didn’t speak the War Boys chittered outside.

“I’m Twit.”

“I’m Gnarl.”

They seemed proud of themselves. Proud to have names. You rolled your eyes and looked away. “He sleeps in here with ya, you gonna kill him?” the woman asked. You crossed your arms over your chest and shook your head. “See?” You could hear the shit eating grin she had on her face even as you refused to look at her. You grumbled incoherently and pushed yourself to the far end of the bench. Sleep came quickly.

Your own moan woke you. The feel of flesh and heat confused you enough for you to open your eyes. Fuck. Bad. Bad. Distance. The Mad Man didn’t appear to have stirred despite your firm snuggling, nor did he shift as you scurried back. You watched him, fearful, for a moment. His chest rose and fell rhythmically. As far as you could tell he was still unconscious.

You grunted quietly and shifted. Your arms went in and out of being numb behind your back. Being comfortable would be a test of your own flexibility. You maneuvered yourself near silently. After a small struggle your arms were in front of you again, but the chains that bound you were tangled and more limiting than before. Fine. It ensured you didn’t do something so foolish as to seek out another person’s touch. You rolled your eyes at yourself and slowly fell back asleep. 

Night stretched on. It seemed as impossibly long as the wretched day and you were too fucking cold to keep sleeping. You glared at the Mad Man. He was fully clothed and then some. You were in nothing but thin rags and chains. Unthinking, you growled down at your chains. If only they were a little longer. You could make it out of the car… And then what? 

It wasn’t the lack of freedom that gutted you. The people you were with before weren’t kind enough for that. They had kept you alive, and at night you had been warm even as the sand became frigid. Sometimes you’d even been allowed to stretch out while you slept. Your nostalgia was interrupted by movement. You flinched back and shot a glare at the Mad Man. 

He shrugged off his jacket. “Come here.” You eyed him warily and tugged at the chains that now had far less give. He frowned but soon resolved to whatever he was thinking. He came to you, slowly, and wrapped the jacket around one of your sides. He shifted you so your other side was pressed to him. 

You hummed but it came out less appreciative than you meant. He looked at you one last time before he settled into the new position. With the warmth of his jacket and his body you were asleep again in no time.

You woke for a third time to whooping. Your eyes flung open and you were grateful to be greeted with predawn grey rather than the full light of the sun. You and the Mad Man were both stiff waking up. Your surroundings came in piece by piece and calm overtook you both as you caught up to where you were and what you were doing.

The Mad Man pulled away from you. You doubted he wanted anyone to see him snuggling up to someone else. You couldn’t judge him for that. Before the rest of the convoy could awaken you offered him his jacket back. He took it and pulled it on. 

“Thanks.”

You were both surprised to hear your voice. It was exceedingly rare for you to use it for anything more than primal sound. Words. They scratched at you and you were not yet sure if you hated them. They’d done you such little good before. The Mad Man grunted an affirmation and looked bodily out the window of the vehicle. 

“Oh good. You’re still alive.” Twit had come to the vehicle. He handed a bottle of white to the Mad Man. “You gunna untie her?” The Mad Man shook his head. “You gunna get the cage off her face?” Again, the answer was no. The noise that came out of you was decidedly a whine and not a growl as you had intended.

“Ah. She likes the chains.” Gnarl had come to see as well. No! Yes. A little bit yes. When it was with him. You shifted and turned away from them. 

“She’ll bolt,” the Mad Man explained. Well, he wasn’t wrong. You didn’t have anywhere to go, but you knew death. Death was better than the Citadel. Death was better than the unknown.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Citadel is as dark a place as expected, but the Reader finds protection from Max and agency from Furiosa.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me so long to post this, I've been sick the past few days.

The Citadel was less populous than you thought it was going to be. But the bones. Oh, the Bones. They must’ve culled their population. Either ritually or when leadership changed. Neither was comforting. The convoy came back to cheers and the chanting of a single word.

FURIOSA

The chanting settled dread into your stomach. You looked to the Mad Man with fear etched on your face. He didn’t look back at you, but he did seem relaxed for the first time in the week you’d been with him. That settled you some, but not much. War Boys took over his car and he reached over to unshackle you. Your legs first. Then he grabbed the chains on your hands and leveled you with a glare. You nodded and soon your hands were free.

You rubbed at the skin on your wrists as he grabbed you around the arm and hefted you out of the vehicle. It disappeared soon enough, and the Mad Man led you to a lift where most of the rest of the convoy was waiting. They shrunk back from the Mad Man. The crowded lift made room, inches, but it was better than nothing. 

You supposed his grip was menacing, but you knew it for what it was. Protection.

The lift lurched and you stiffened. Among this many people you couldn’t reach for the Mad Man as you wanted to. He pulled you nearer instead. You leaned against him as much as you thought you could get away with. Slowly the people and supplies left as the lift stopped at different levels of the massive butte that these people made their home.

At the top only you, the Mad Man, and the woman remained. She was the only woman you’d seen in the convoy. You’d lost her whereabouts as soon as you entered the citadel. She considered you, but mostly she was considering the Mad Man. “What’re you going to do with her?” The lift lurched to a stop and you were led off the lift and pushed into the tunnels of sandstone.

“She’s mine.”

Shock froze you in place. He didn’t run into you, but he did take an extra step. Your back was flush to his chest. You covered your shock too slowly into curious disinterest. The woman raised a brow but said nothing. The Mad Man pressed you into walking again.

The hallways this far up were empty. You could see rooms that were occupied. Women working and laughing and lounging. Some had babies. Healthy looking babies. What paradise had these people made for themselves? What cost had they endured to create it?

You split from the woman shortly after. The Mad Man pushed you down to the end of another hallway and into a makeshift room. There was a bed space in the ground, a table, chairs. Tapestries gave the room some color and you could see clean cloth and clothing in baskets.

“Max.” He bent over to take off some of his outerwear. He didn’t talk often. He talked to you even less, but you had learned to answer.

You gave your name, although you were sure it was not the name your mother gave you as it had come to be a name you called yourself after too long of being lost. Abandoned. Max looked up from the brace on his leg. Surprise and warmth swirled on his face. You offered him a small but genuine smile. He returned his attention to the brace, snapping it secure before standing.

“Come.” You walked in front of him, always in front, and his hand acted as a guide instead of a shackle. He led you into a wide room. It seemed communal and many faces turned to stare. You shrunk back against them and kept your eyes down.

“Why’s she like that?” One of the women spoke up, indignant.

“Dangerous,” Max answered, and you grunted. He led you to a corner with a bucket of clean water and a clean rag.

“You allow this, Furiosa?” an older voice spoke. Your head snapped up at the name. The woman from before. The lone woman with the metal arm. Furiosa. You looked away as soon as the information processed. Bad. She was the bad news. The twist in your gut. The reason for the bones.

Max had given you some space upon depositing you in front of the water. He came up to you now. Hands soft on your body. He pulled at your rags gently until you began to disrobe yourself. Then he stepped away again. You looked to him, and he was staring at you, but you had the distinct sense he was concerned more with the others in the room.

You took up the rag and soaked it in the water. Clean, clear water. Surprisingly cold water. You gasped as you rubbed at your skin. Your head and face, across your shoulders and down your arms. Over the vicious scars that painted your torso and then over your legs. The water was foul by the time you were done, and you were sure you’d never been cleaner. 

Furiosa and another woman stepped forward to take the bucket. Another woman came and handed you clean cloth. You wrapped yourself in it and created a makeshift piece of clothing. The bucket came back with more clean water and another clean rag. “Do you wanted us to leave?” Furiosa asked. Her voice was low and soft. You made a noise in question. She didn’t touch you but caught your attention. She looked pointedly from Max to the bucket and back to you. You nodded, looking away, and the women either left eyeline or left the room completely.

You saw now that he’d brought a change of clothes. The pile of cloth distracted you for a heartbeat and then his movement brought your attention back. You watched him undress, and he pointed for you to grab a stool from across the room. You did as you were bid and set it down next to the bucket of water. Max sat and unbuckled his leg brace. You studied his body and a soft, “oh,” escaped you when your eyes finally reached his knee. There was extensive scar tissue. More so than the rest of him.

“May I?” You asked, reaching out to him. He nodded and you felt him keep a close eye on you as you crouched next to him. You ghosted your fingers over the ruined flesh of his knee. The wound had healed, but without proper medicine it had healed incorrectly. You both knew proper medicine had long been lost. The shine of water trickling down his torso caught your attention and you looked up. He was cleaning himself, apparently bored with you. You pouted a bit and stood, taking a step back as you did.

You waited for him to finish cleaning himself. You watched him dress and shifted on your feet. Finally, he looked up to you in question. “You’re going to leave me, aren’t you?” Your words came out small, weak. But you were weak.

His brow furrowed and you watched him swallow. “Not forever. You’re safe here.” With his brace snapped on he stood and guided you out of the room. He left the bucket of water and the women filed back into their space. He took you back to his room. You sank to the floor and he followed you down.

Pain sunk its claws into your throat and your eyes burned as they could barely create the tears they wanted. A strangled sound escaped you and Max rubbed your back soothingly. He raised a brow when he finally caught you eye. You were allowed to leave but he wasn’t? You lunged your face at his, snapping your teeth, and he moved away. Fluid and unimpressed. He grabbed your mask and moved you to sit up straight.

You grunted and growled, and he pushed you further until you were lying on your back. His hand on your mask was controlled enough that you didn’t move your body against him further for fear of him snapping your neck. You whined. Low and pleading. Groveling an apology but he didn’t let up. He liked you too much like this. You like you too much like this. His pupils blew as his eyes trailed your body.

“When?”

“They wouldn’t touch me.” You trailed your fingers over the scars on your lower stomach. Max made an indecipherable noise. It was laced with too much and not enough. He kept one hand on your mask. The other picked at your clothes until you were unwrapping the cloth yourself. He placed it aside, somewhere clean, and trailed his hand over your skin. He was appreciative, kneading and pressing and – oh. You moaned and sputtered.

He smirked to himself. His fingers delved into your folds and you arched into him. Your eyes bounced from the ceiling to his face and back. He took two fingers to gather your wetness and messaged slow circles into your clit. Your ragged breathing turned into pants and you were so fucking sensitive. A week you’d been with this man. Close quarters. Trusting your life to him even when you didn’t want to. He kept you warm at night and fed during the day. 

From the moment you’d watched him dispatch your campout you knew this was where you were headed. His two fingers pressed down and in and curled. You shouted, half surprised, and grunted as he began to move. To fuck you slowly and stretch you. His thumb turned up with his hand and he continued his attentions to your clit.

It was difficult, not talking, and you felt you should say something. You didn’t know what to say but you could not default to silence. You groaned and moaned and when that building pressure released you screamed. He pushed you through the pleasure until you thrashed against him. He pulled his fingers away from you and you groaned. He lifted your mask a little and pushed your head back in to the ground. Stay.

You settled and he removed his hand long enough to free his cock. It was big. Thick. You whined, almost in protest, at the thought of it being inside you. He kept one hand on his length and the other returned to your mask. He held you down and shifted to hover over your body. You felt the head of his dick press at your pussy and he pushed slowly, so slowly, even as your flesh yielded to him. You let out high pitched sounds as he sank into you and they drowned out whatever noises he was making.

Once his pelvis was flush to yours, he paused. He moved so his arms could hold his body weight from crushing you. Not that it mattered overmuch because he still exuded a good amount of force on your torso. You knew you couldn’t move out from under him like this. He waited, still, until you looked up at his face. He pressed a kiss to your forehead and exhaled heavily.

He pulled out as slowly as he had pushed in. His mouth descended to your neck and along your collarbone. He kissed and nibbled and kept his slow, slow pace. Was this lovemaking? You were sure it wasn’t fucking. Your groans mixed with his and you shifted your hips to create more friction between you. His groans turned a bit strangled then and he pressed a finger through your mask.

You sucked and lathed his finger with your tongue. Max picked up the pace but only just. Enough to heighten the heady pleasure into something more. Something building. You were too touch starved to care if it meant something because it most certainly did. Your teeth scraped his finger, a warning, and he removed it and shifted it between you to press soft tortures to your clit.

You bucked against him. The pleasure in your core no less friendly than before. You orgasmed hard and clenched around him. Your body writhed and your moans were strangled. His hips stuttered and you felt his hot seed spill inside you. He groaned long and low as he released in you. Then you were two bodies, still connected and panting.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Reader becomes trapped in a situation she wasn't expecting and Max is nowhere to be found.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to say thanks for being so patient with me while I've been sick! I know this was meant to go up last week, but I could barely get out of bed.

“Sleep.”

You stared at him, hurt and confused. You hadn’t been apart. Not in the weeks since he’d taken you. If he wasn’t making you go with him then you were making sure to make yourself a bother by following him. Unfortunately, he was as hardheaded as you were, and he stared you down until you crawled into the bedding and closed your eyes. You listened to him leave and cried yourself to sleep.

He came back later. You didn’t know how much later, but the sun had set, and the already cool den had gotten colder. He moved through the dark like his eyes were already adjusted to it and you sat up. You blinked at him and pulled the blanket tighter around your shoulders. He had a bowl of something. Beans and green and a meat you didn’t ask questions about because it was cooked all the way through.

“Water, love?” he offered you a cup and you took a gulp from it before handing it back. He shook his head and pushed the water back to you. “Already drank.” He considered you, cradling the bowl in his hand. In a moment his decision was made, and he set the bowl aside. He reached around your head and unlocked your face from the cage. It was easier if everyone thought you were feral. In most ways you were.

He grabbed the bowl again and offered it to you. You ate in silence. Taste was lost in this world. Food was food as much as gas was to the makeshift vehicles everyone seemed to worship. Fuel in the tank to perhaps survive another day. You ate and when you finished eating, and the water was gone, the mask went back on. It wasn’t so annoying anymore. “Max?”

He took a minute as he undressed. “Yes, love?” His response came as quiet off his lips as ever, but you loved to hear his voice. He looked to you and you handed him the bowl. He took it and set it aside.

“When’s your run?”

“I don’t know. Furiosa has been denying me.”

You scooted over on the bed so he could join you. He lied down and covered himself with the blanket before he grabbed for you and pulled you close. He had claimed he’d go mad if he was stuck in the Citadel. A part of you knew there was some truth in that. A part of you worried the endless sands were what drove him to madness. They would be what drove him to death. You snuggled in to him. Your bare skin touching his. Furiosa couldn’t deny him forever. The people were free here, and if she didn’t offer him a job then he would leave of his own accord.

That thought soured your stomach. You could not make him stay. You were not the reason he kept a room in the Citadel and you never would be. You tried and failed to not grind your teeth. If Max hadn’t noticed that then he noticed the way your fingers turned to claws on his skin. “Easy, my love,” he warned and twisted so your hands were held above your head in one of his and you were staring up at him. “Runs never take longer than two weeks,” he said as he kissed his way down your neck and torso to the inside of your thigh.

He teased and nibbled your skin until you were gasping and whining. Then he finally moved his lips where you wanted them. He placed openmouthed kisses on your labia and deeper to the core of you. His tongue pressed out and into you and you both groaned at the pleasure. You’d discovered quickly that he liked the taste of you. He fucked you on his tongue. His nose bumped into your clit as he went. 

You were slick with arousal in an instant. And all too soon you were clenching down around him. You’d thought, with his constant presence, that you’d become used to his pleasure. Desensitized. No, not at all. You ran a hair trigger and Max didn’t practice control. You watched him take men down first-hand and he took you down just as easily. He always pleasured you until you were weak and compliant. There was always a threat he’d give you more, but you rarely had the energy to indulge on it.

He moved back up the bed and settled against you again. This time he clung to you and you both drifted off with the smell of your sex in the air.

You woke slowly until you noticed Max wasn’t at your side. You looked around, still groggy, and found he wasn’t even in the room. You got up in a flash only to be pulled back. A frustrated grunt escaped you and you turned around to see what was stopping you. A thick metal rod buried deep in the stone held you answer. A chain. A chain connecting you to the room. You’d break your neck before you broke the chain off the wall.

You screamed your pain. Your rage. You screamed your violence as you tugged on the chain knowing it was futile. The sun outside looked down on you in disgust and you kept going. You screamed until you coughed up blood. You screamed until someone finally came for you. A wife. One of Immortan Joe’s. Still young and beautiful and unblemished. She came in glaring at you, ready to tell you off, and left just as quickly without saying a word.

That shut you up for a while. That and the pain. Once you stopped screaming you realized how raw your throat was. You already didn’t keep track of time farther than day or night. Now more than ever before time lost meaning to you. It felt like you waited for half a day before someone else came.

Furiosa.

Losing Max had overridden your fear of her and her attention. Now that she was there, standing in the archway to the room, you shrunk back. Your body moving as far away as possible. You pressed against the far wall, eyes wide and breathing ragged. She huffed, amused, which you found patronizing, and stayed in the archway. “He really is paranoid of you leaving, but you are crazy.” She entered your space then and you growled.

There was a hesitancy in her step as she heard how wet it was. Clearly something was wrong. She looked down and saw the blood. “What have you done?” she asked and crouched down to inspect the spattering. You understood the question as rhetorical and awaited her answer. She looked back up at you. “My boys’ll make sure he gets home. To you. Safely.” She emphasized the words, leaning towards you. Imploring. You realized she wanted you to understand. To hear the words she was saying.

“He’s gone.” You were certain that was the first time she’d heard you speak. A feat in itself considering how often you and Max were around her.

“He’ll come back.”

You made a noise in disgust, disbelief, and looked away. She stayed crouched on the ground and you refused to look at her. Minutes ticked on in your stalemate until she finally rose. “The women are too afraid to help you, but they have War Boys they trust that will.” She said and stalled in the room. “Max will come back.”

Her parting words. You didn’t believe her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blease leave comments and kudos <3 .  
> Might be convinced to write another chapter. I don't know. This is, in my mind, the natural end.

**Author's Note:**

> There are many scenes in this fic that I greatly enjoyed writing.  
> Comments and Kudos welcome <3 .


End file.
